How to Cheat at Archaeology
by Disaster-heavy-on-the-DIS
Summary: Bexley Castle first met the Doctor when she was five years old. Thirteen years later, the two are thrown together again and the travels planned for the aspiring archaeologist's gap year involve a few more aliens than she was expecting.


A while ago I started writing Life of Alexis but for reasons beyond my control I have been unable to update any of my stories for a long time. In rereading them recently, I have decided I could make a better version of Life of Alexis so this is attempt to. It's in the same style only I think it is more enjoyable and the storylines I have planned are hopefully better.

Quick **WARNING** : a child is slapped during this chapter. I am pretty sure this is the only time it happens throughout and it is barely mentioned but I felt I should warn people. So you have been warned.

So I hope you enjoy.

And I don't own Doctor Who.

00000000 Hope you enjoy 00000000

I was awoken by screams. Which is understandable. You can't blame anyone for not dying quietly. Darkness had engulfed my room and perched itself on the end of my bed, its globin like figure watching me intently. Trembling, I lowered my bare feet onto my carpet and blindly crossed my room. Another scream cut through the still air and then silence once more. Silence for a long time.

"Mummy!" I called as my quivering fingers wrapped slowly around the cold metal orb in front of me.

A single twist and a sliver of light battled its way into my room. It blinded me, leaving squints in the place of terror widened eyes.

Steps. A person on the landing.

I stared out through the tiny crack, desperately searching for my mother. All I could see was the white banister and the framed photo beyond it. Suddenly as shadow blocked my view of the dark wooden frame, of the smiling faces of me and my parents.

"Oh, sweetheart!" my mother gasped as her green eyes met my matching set.

Her hand pressed against my door and I shifted in response, allowing her entry. She grinned at me as I threw myself into her arms and battled back tears I could not understand.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay." she whispered, checking if any harm had come to me.

Pulling back, she apprised me, looking over my every tear soaked feature. Then she reached up, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. Her contact left a warm and wet sensation on my cheek but I thought nothing of it. The same feeling came from washing up water.

"How about we go and see Daddy?" she asked. "I think he wants to talk to you."

I nodded, offering her my hand so we could walk together. There was a pause before her offered her own. Her hands were both painted red from the fingers down. Frowning, my response was to shake my head and take a step back.

"Mummy, are you hurt?" I asked, scanning her with concern.

She smiled to me and snatched my hand into hers, repeating that my father wanted to talk to me.

.

The door to the lounge was closed; I remember that as clear as day. My father, hands stained with crimson stood in the hallway, looked at me and smiled. There was something unfamiliar about his crocodile like grin and I attempted to pull free of my mother's grasp. She did nothing but tighten her grip.

"Hello, sweetheart." my father said, kneeling down to my level.

He reached out to take me from my mother just as the door began to shudder.

"Open up!" a woman's voice called through.

I glanced towards the frosted panes, trying to make out who it was.

"Help!" I cried. "They're not my Mummy and Daddy!"

The hammering got louder just as my father – only he wasn't my father – raked his hand across my face, leaving a red splatter. The yelp that tore itself from my lips only intensified the pounding on the wood.

"Leave her alone!" the woman shouted. "Doctor!"

Another figure appeared at the glass as my father pulled me from my mother's grasp. He ordered her to deal with our visitors as his brown eyes morphed red and his fingertips grew into painful claws. They scratched at my exposed wrists as he dragged me along, towards the kitchen.

"Help!" I cried as a whir filled the air.

The lock clicked and the door flew open. Standing there, framed by the streetlight outside, was a skinny man in a pinstripe suit, face a maze of fury and mercy. His brown eyes glowed with every horror and every wonder time had to offer and he surveyed the scene in front of him, before stepping forwards.

A woman stood by his side, black hair pulled back into a high pony tail and leather jacket pulled over her shoulders.

"I'm going to give you one warning. Let the girl go."

There was a pause where I believed the fakes would obey. Instead the claws dug into my arm, puncturing my skin. My whimper told the man he had been ignored.

"Fine. You brought this on yourself."

And then the wand in the man's hand glowed. It whined gently and the people who were not my parents stiffened. They frowned and suddenly began to fade. The man approached me and knelt down.  
"Did either of them bite you?" he asked urgently, checking me over.

The woman rushed to join him as I shook my head.

"What's your name?" the woman inquired as she scanned my face.

"Bexley Castle." I whispered in reply, glancing over my shoulders.

The man pulled my attention back onto him as he told me that I was safe. The woman got to her feet and looked about. Looking at the door to the lounge, she began to walk towards it.

"Who do you live with, Bexley?" the man asked, shrugging off his suit jacket.

He slipped it across my shoulders and offered me a reassuring grin. For the first time since waking up I felt completely safe and leant forwards, wrapping my arms around his neck, tears slipping slowly from my eyes once more.

"It's okay." he murmured, rubbing circles into my back.

Suddenly the woman got his attention, putting her hand upon his shoulder. His spiky brown hair trembled as he looked around at her.

"Doctor, I think you should look in the lounge." she whispered, having gone pale.

A nod of understanding came from the man – the Doctor – as he turned back to me. He asked me to be a brave girl and let Martha go and get me cleaned up. The woman, Martha, reached out for my hand before relenting and letting me led her up the stairs.

.

The white bandage Martha had twisted around my arm felt a little too tight but I said nothing. Using cotton wool and warm water she cleaned the blood from my face and then checked the bruise that remained.

"Miss Martha…" I began. "Where are my Mummy and Daddy?"

There was a pause as she pulled on the draw strings of the cotton wool bag. She tucked the bag into the white bathroom cupboard before perching upon the edge of the bath. I was already sitting on the closed toilet lid but brought my knees up to my chest.

"Do you have any other family, Bexley?" Martha asked, slowly.

I nodded and told her about Aunt Marigold, an author, and my family on my mother's side who lived in France and who'd never met. Martha soaked the information in and glanced towards the open door as laboured footsteps came up the stairs. The Doctor stopped in the doorway, looking over me with something terrible in his eyes.

"There's nothing we can do." he announced.

It took me a few seconds to realise he was speaking to Martha. Horror engulfed her face and she got to her feet, approaching him.

"There has to be something." she murmured, believing I would not be able to hear.

The Doctor slowly approached and sat upon the bath, in the place where Martha had been. He told me a story. A tale of wonder and magic and monsters and as the rhythmic plod of his voice led me along a journey, I felt sleep begin to creep in. Gradually, I began to lull forwards and the Doctor gently collected me up and we sat on the bathroom floor together, watched by Martha. I settled into the nook of his arm, suit jacket acting as a blanket. The story continued until the invisible hand succeeded in working my eyes closed.

.

That night my aunt found me curled up on her doorstep, wrapped in a blanket with a suitcase resting beside me. The police came the next day to tell her that her brother and sister-in-law were dead, murdered in a savage attack and that I was missing. She had asked me to talk to them and I did. I told them of the Doctor and Martha and the fakes and then it was done. The funeral took place a week later. Everyone stopped talking about it after that.

And I was left with thousands of questions.


End file.
